


Who You Are

by thesaddestboner



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Character Study, Detroit Lions, Gen, Health Issues, Hearts, No Plot/Plotless, POV Second Person, Pretentious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-24
Updated: 2005-12-24
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Your heart has always been your greatest weakness.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> During his rookie year, Joey Harrington suffered from supraventricular tachycardia and missed the end of the season with an irregular heartbeat. He had a procedure done to correct the irregularity; if he had chosen not to, he would have had to take medication for the rest of his life. Joey's father and uncle also suffer from minor heart ailments.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

>   
>  _The heart is not the kind of muscle you think it is._ — [](http://brushback.livejournal.com/profile)[**brushback**](http://brushback.livejournal.com/)  
> 

Your heart has always been your greatest weakness. Not the dropped passes in the clutch, not the overthrown balls in the endzone, nor the underthrown ones that hit the receivers in their shoetops. Not the supposed lack of leadership skills or the offbeat sense of humor that alienated everyone your rookie year.

Your heart.

If you look close enough—and know what you're looking for—and the lighting is just right, you can see them. Tiny silvery scars on your thighs from where the catheters had been inserted, two small blips on the sonar of your life. Had the procedure failed, you would have been stuck popping pills until your dying days. You can put up with a couple small marks no one is ever going to see. You can put up with your fluttering, unworthy, fallible heart.

It's still as clear as a cloudless day in your mind; you can see yourself swaying on the sidelines, your heart jackrabbiting out of your chest, your head so light and airy, you remember thinking that you were going to just float away. The doctors with their grim, lined faces, telling you about the risks of an operation, the coaches with their weathered ones telling you to suck it up and go for it. Dominic and his own heart problem, although no one else on the team will find out until a year later when Dom needs his _own_ procedure. 

You've never been a fan of hospitals, nor have you ever been a fan of having needles poking in places where they don't belong. An older, matronly nurse with kind eyes and a gentle smile takes your hand and reassures you. She reminds you of your mother. 

They tell you that you were never really in danger of losing your career, but after the operation, you're never one-hundred percent certain your heart won't fail on you sometime in the future. You think about the hockey player, Fischer, a guy your age, and his career in doubt (and for a few moments there, his life in doubt as well). The hockey player who had the same problem you did, only he hadn't been so lucky.

You leave him a phone message, offering your support, your heartbeat echoing wildly in your ears. Is it nerves, or is it...

(No, you won't let yourself consider the possibility.)

The reporters ask you and Dom what you think about it, being the two of you are both tachycardia veterans. Dominic says that there's no way Fischer will give up his hopes of playing again. Dominic says, "It's in his heart," and he isn't even trying to make a pun. 

You stand by his side, listening to him, as the white lights shine in your face and make you blind, and think about your own heart.

It's still in your heart to play. You're not going to let anyone take that away from you. Not illness, not an upstart backup, not your own bad play or that of your teammates.

Not your own heart.

You close your hand over your heart and feel it beating in your chest, center of your universe, and you hold on to it for all it's worth.

It might still be weak. It might still be fluttering, unworthy, fallible. But it is still your heart and it is the reason you're still here, and this is who you are. 

This is something you can live with.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
